Into the Nightmare
by EarthRiddle
Summary: A horror tinged deconstruction of Quinrose's Wonderland. Delilah is alone in a world that seems to fight her at every step. Wonderland is not wondrous. It's filled with layers of deception and intrigue, and even love is a selfish lie.
1. She fell into Hell

So the gist is this: this story attempts to explore Quinrose's Wonderland realistically, as it might actually be, without the otome elements. The genres will mostly be psychological horror and tragedy because it's a deconstruction of the world Quinrose has created. I find the dark hints of the Alice games to sometimes be more interesting than some of the foreground action.

What this story essentially attempts to do is take the dark hints and actually deal with them. For instance, what would it actually be like to be thrown into a strange world with no one to help you? What would it actually be like if you're disinterested in all the Roleholders and yet they still continue to force their feelings on you? What are the psychological impacts of being faceless.

At least, that's my goal. Will I succeed? Eh. Don't know. But it'll be fun trying. It all sounds very complex, and I'm not sure if I have the skill to pull it off, but we'll see. Hopefully what is here is enjoyable.

* * *

><p>Lost, scared, shaken to her core, Delilah stayed bent on her hands and knees. She stared at the ground, her black-eyed gaze unable to tear away lest she see something she didn't want to see. She studied the tile on the ground. It was gray and seemed normal, but there was nothing normal about her circumstances. Something very strange had happened. A deep voice rose from behind her. "Who are you?" She turned her head hesitantly to see a man with long dark blue hair tied back, glasses resting on his thin nose. She didn't answer, and only let the wind sweep her dark hair off her shoulders, playing across her pale cheeks.<p>

It was very windy. _Perhaps that's because I'm on a tower. _She could see clouds weave in and out the edge of the fence that surrounded her so high up from the ground. Glancing over the side, she saw below green for miles, dots of buildings speckling the landscape.

Then gazing back at the man she saw his expression rapidly shift to one of concentration, eyes focused on her face.

"Another?" His voice rose, bitter.

At first she had no idea what to say. Her head spun. _Another what? _What question would lead to the explanation for this impossible string of events?

"Where…is this?" Her voice shook in the shivery, cool air.

"This is here." He wasted no words, and turned as if to leave.

"No! You can't just leave me!" Desperation filled her. "I don't know where I am. I was drug down here by…a rabbit. A man with rabbit ears. He gave me this." She held a vial up. "God, I know it makes no sense, but if you would just help me!"

Julius's smile was humorless, his gaze showing that he did recognize the little vial.

"Please."

"No." His voice was taut as hurt and sadness shined deeply in his eyes. "I helped one of you once. I'm not one to make mistakes twice."

She began to cry, clutching the vial in her fists as the tears ran down. "I'm so lost."

"Many are."

"Who are you?" _Who is he to deny me help? _

"Someone who doesn't get involved with your kind. Not anymore."

"My kind? What kind? What are you talking about!"

"Foreigners." He spat the word. "You draw us in your games, distracting us from our true duties, forcing us to make sacrifices on your behalves and giving us _nothing_. I don't need you."

"You won't help me?"

"I'll show you out the tower." His voice was emotionless, which disturbed her after his outburst only a few moments before.

Unable to meet his eyes, she tore her tearful look towards the vast space beyond the tower. A deep ticking reverberated…it strangely reminded her of the sound of a clock. Was she on a clock tower? It seemed so tall to be one, and yet the ticking continued to boom, only confirming her suspicions.

In a daze she followed him inside through the door. They moved step-by-step down stairs that seemed to never end. Clocks and gears lined the walls, gleaming gold and silver from the little bit of light that managed to make it in through the small windows. There was a definite gloom, and she felt time's presence very strongly. Watching the clocks as she moved down she felt every second, every minute that passed.

Which is how she knew ten minutes had passed when they finally reached a tall door, where he ushered her through outside. Stepping out, she winced in the sunlight. The light was blinding, shining oddly and bright. Too bright. She was barely able to see Julius close the door.

But she heard his parting words. "Don't return."

Staring at the closed door, she had a realization. The weight of everything fell on her, and questions dominated her mind.

Where was she?

She didn't know.

How would she survive.

She didn't know.

Panic controlling her, she threw herself against the door, beating it with her fists, screaming for the man to return until her lungs were sore.

Nobody came. She was alone in a world far too big.

* * *

><p>She had been wandering to no avail. She had no concept of the time or how long she had been stumbling through the forest, thirst making her tongue raw in her mouth. Despite her burning legs she continued onwards, feeling them get heavier with each step until they were purely numb. Tree branches wove in the sky above as she traipsed through the mud below.<p>

It almost seemed impossible, but she swore that time was playing a trick on her because the night and day switched back and forth at a rapid-fire pace.

Then the forest cleared suddenly into a sloping, grassy hill, and there at the bottom was a small town. It was cute, like a place she imagined from a fairy tale. The brown roofs and brick walls were quaint, cozy. It was a snug little place, nestled at the foot of the hill, inviting her in.

Her feet traveled down, and gravity drug her along the steepness as if pushing her forward.

The inside of the town was just as inviting. Little flowers lined the streets in colors, sunshine pouring through, filtering everything in a golden glow.

She stepped in, taking in the beauty, and realized slowly that something was very wrong.

At first she couldn't pick out what it was exactly. People strolled past her, speaking, enjoying the nice day.

But in the town's apparent normalcy lied horror, grotesquerie. The people…they had no eyes. Their eyeless faces passed her, their unseeing gazes focused forward. Screaming, the vial fell from her hand and shattered on the ground. She couldn't remember why she had kept the vial in the first place and neither did she care that it was broken now.

She was surrounded by the mockeries of people. Everything so normal, and so wrong. They were so average, and so extraordinary. If they had eyes they would be essentially people…but lacking eyes they were monsters.

They stared curiously as she unthinkingly ran as fast as she could deeper into the town, a scream high and cold tearing through her lips in the warm air.

At every turn there they were there, causing her throat to tighten. She couldn't stand to look at them, and so she rushed into the only place she could find: a shadowy alley. There she rested against the wall, shaking, trying to calm her fractured nerves.

She refused to leave that spot. She could hear their voices outside, human voices, but she knew them for what they were, for it was clear on their empty, frightening faces.

The sky shifted from night to day, and she was unsure whether the time went so quickly because she had completely lost her sense of time or whether time here was very, very wrong.

Stomach crawling, wrenching, she felt nothing but hunger endless. The want for food dominated her every sense. She was dizzy, tired, barely able to move as she stayed sitting in that dark alley. Hunger and the shadows dimmed her sight, but her sense of smell was sharper than ever. Everything smelled like food, and every scent wafting from the street tantalized her taste buds.

But she knew she couldn't ever leave. Between starvation and…_them…_she knew the answer to her grim choice. Imagining those eyeless grotesqueries with gazes that were surely unseeing caused her to shiver. Starvation looked more appealing by the moment.

Putting the fearful decision off, she begged her body to tolerate the aching, gnawing hunger just a little while longer.

She sobbed, feeling sick and empty. Falling asleep, she wasn't sure she would ever wake up.

X As she shut her eyes a hazy dream eventually opened before her. The void surrounded her, dark and infinite. She stepped forward on indefinite ground, silence threatening to overtake her. The atmosphere was maddening: ill-defined and made of nothing but empty space. All around was blackness, nothing. She walked on black nothingness, saw it at every turn.

A voice, deep and mysterious, shattered the silence. She froze, and a man materialized off to her side. He floated in the air, an eye patch over one of his eyes. His silver hair hung just above his shoulders.

"Alice?" he said.

"Delilah."

"You're all Alice to me. Every single one of you." His voice was light, as if he was telling a riddle.

"I want to go home." She looked him straight in his one silver eye. "…but there is no home, is there?"

"Not anymore."

She suddenly remembered the vial breaking, shattering on the ground of the town. Somehow she had a vague sense that this was very bad.

"The vial was your only way home."

"Then how do I get out?"

His smile was grim. "How do you get out of anywhere? You end it."

"End…this?"

"Either end the Game, end this place, or end yourself." His voice had suddenly become very serious. "Of course…ending the Game or this place would mean you'd have to kill thousands."

Her eyes went wide.

"And ending yourself…well, these are not very attractive choices."

Tears wouldn't even come. Her sadness was absolute, crushing her every emotion with an unbelievable sense that she was lost.

Anger stood in for sorrow as she screamed, "How dare you! How dare any of you! What right do you have?"

"Ah, but I didn't do this. It was a rabbit, wasn't it? Doing things he shouldn't do…so selfish."

"I'll find and punch that bastard!" she cried furiously.

"Will you?" The man seemed intrigued.

"He's destroyed my life. Of course I will."

"You're a strange girl. You may fit in here."

Still glaring, she said, "And who are you?"

"Nightmare."

She laughed bitterly. "Of course."

He stared off into the distance as if seeing something she couldn't. "You're more frightened than your kind usually is."

"You mean foreigners?" She remembered the name from the man at the Clock Tower. How could she forget the one who so cruelly turned her away in her hour of need?

"Your kind comes and goes…they used to be so rare, too. So many coming here is really upsetting the balance."

"Are there others like me here."

"No. They come one-by-one…and disappear."

At his words she closed her eyes, trying to keep herself from falling. "Disappear?"

"Without trace."

She felt her throat tighten, stomach flip as terror rose in her heart. "I don't want to go back. Don't make me go back. Please, sir."

"I'm sorry, Delilah. Our meeting must end."

Mouth agape, she watched as the dream fell around her, the void vanishing in a burst of bright light.

* * *

><p>Waking with a start, ahead of her she saw a woman a few feet away. She was tall, wearing a veil that covered her face, hair green as moss tumbling wildly around her long, thin arms. Her red dress, adorned with silver buttons, shifted slightly as she held out her hand. A silver ribbon was tied around her neck.<p>

She smiled tightly, mouth barely visible under the edges of her veil. To Delilah even this forced expression was like an angel's face. She wanted to say something to her benefactor, but found her mouth dry and tongue numb.

"Poor thing." The woman bent, patting her head gently. "You look almost dead. Come with me, dear girl. Come."

Delilah was only barely aware of the strained way the woman spoke, as if she was forcing every word. Her movements were slow, deliberate.

Still, Delilah fell weakly against her, sobbing, wanting to be anywhere but starving in an alley.

The woman's expression hardened at the girl's touch, but she still patted Delilah's back. "I have a home on the outskirts of town. You'll never have to see another faceless again. I'll cook you a meal. Hot, fresh bread and thick steak with a glass of tea. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Her mouth watered as the woman continued to list off foods, describing their textures, tastes and smells in detail. Delilah could almost feel each and every one in her mouth, their flavor bursting on the tip of her tongue. Finally Delilah gave in, begging her to take her to her home.

"I always love to have strangers," the woman whispered. "I _always_ hate for them to leave."

She led Delilah away, shrouding the girl's eyes the whole way so she didn't have to see the faceless. Meanwhile, the girl was crying tears of relief and joy.

She never could know what was to come.

* * *

><p>Remember when I said this story has elements of horror? Yeah, that comes next chapter.<p> 


	2. She met the Eyecatcher

Warning: The dark horror elements are full-throttle here. Seriously.

Should this story be M? Right now the horrible things are more implied. Nothing bad actually happens. It's more the threat of bad things happening, but it's still pretty heavy.

I wrote this in the dark at night while listening to Nox Arcana and it shook me a little. Probably won't affect other people that way, though, because I'm easily shaken.

I did say this is a horror deconstruction of Quinrose's Wonderland, and I have no plans of not exploring either of those tags.

* * *

><p>She wasn't sure what to think of the woman.<p>

Her house was small. Its exterior looked almost cozy. There were white walls and a brick path rolling towards the door like a yellow ribbon in the grass. Yet inside the furniture was squashed close together, the space cramped, the air stale. A wind beat against the house, shaking the fastened shutters.

There was only one room, and a small, rickety table sat in the center of a place she assumed to be the kitchen. The stove was a wood-burning one, black with a long smoke-pipe leading through the wall. The closeness of the space made her skin crawl.

Sitting in the dimness lit only by candles, she watched the woman across the room bring her a plate of food. The smell intoxicated her, and the moment it was set down she hungrily dug in with her hands, desperately trying to fit as much food in her mouth as possible.

Delilah wasn't sure if the woman watched her, for she wore a veil. It wasn't until her plate was empty she realized for sure that the woman was staring from across the table. Her body faced her direction. The only thing that even moved was her light veil shifting as she breathed. The rest of her was still, hands set in her lap where the girl couldn't see.

No, she wasn't completely still. She was shaking ever so slightly, her lips quivering.

Breaking from her statue-like stillness, the woman reached her hand and caressed Delilah's cheek long, cold fingers. "Your eyes are lovely. Very…blue. Deeply blue. So blue. Blue…the bluest I've ever seen…They're blue like deep, dark and drowning waters. Lovely, lovely, lovely." She broke down into nonsense words, words smashing together, voice barely above a casual tone.

"T-thank you." Delilah forgot for a moment the fact she was still starving, as dread replaced the hunger in her stomach. The feeling filled her entire body slowly but surely, until she felt overfilled with the sense of foreboding one only got when facing something deeply evil and deeply wrong.

The candle's light flickered, the woman's fingers were cold, and this was all Delilah could pay attention to. The candle's light lit the woman from behind, setting her green hair into murky shade, lighting only the corners of her face, leaving the rest in shadows.

"Isn't it sometimes a shame that eyes have to be attached to such weak vessels?" The woman's fingers moved up to Delilah's eyes, thumb running across the lid.

"What?"

"A shame…that eyes can't be free. They are stuck to the faces of the important, loose in their sockets, and it takes so little to free them. Only a thin layer of flesh and thick nerves from the back keep them fastened. They're simple…and so lovely."

The white veil suddenly seemed a shade, obscuring something beneath.

Delilah looked away, staring at small bookshelf so crammed that books had fallen from their spots onto the floor.

The light flickered continuously, on and off, on and off.

"I gave you food," she heard the woman's voice. "So you can do something for me."

"Y-yes?" She turned back shakily.

"Go to the cabinet and bring me something."

"Bring you what?"

The woman smiled, lips turning thin and strained. "…you'll know when you see it…" Her voice was a whisper.

Delilah's whole body was assailed by a sense of dread by every movement she made to get up from the chair. Breathing ragged, her footsteps towards the cabinet were slow and tortured, as if the mere act of even lifting her feet hurt. She didn't want to go. She didn't know why she didn't want to. She just didn't.

She imagined the flickering light blinking in time with her footfalls.

Finally her hand touched the cabinet gingerly and rested there, the rough, damp wood playing against her fingers.

Readying herself in every way, she jerked it open, the door creaking on old hinges.

At first she couldn't make out in the dark depths what exactly was there. She thought she saw something glass-like reflecting light, and she squinted to make it out. Reaching in, her hand wrapped around something that was definitely glass…a jar. She felt it cool against her skin as she took it out from the cabinet.

And dropped it to the ground, a scream tearing through the scene like a high alarm.

Among the shattered glass laid a soft eye, yellowed, bloody.

She looked slowly back to the cabinet and sharp realization struck her.

A collection of horror lied therein. What before she couldn't make out she could suddenly see perfectly. Jars were lined up in disordered lines, each filled to the brim with fluid, and in each an eye, eternally staring through the glass of the container it was kept.

Her gaze snapped back to the woman.

She was already up, standing tall and proud, hand on the edge of the delicate fabric on her face.

The veil was lifted, revealing an awful visage. A cruel face stared back-stared in a manner of speaking only. The shape of eyes had been carved into the woman's face in thin scars. The wounds must have been very old, done very long ago, but Delilah could almost picture them newly-cut into her skin and dripping with blood.

"I'm not faceless." The woman's smile scrunched her fake-eyes into an indefinable shape. "Where did you get that idea? I have plenty of eyes."

Delilah felt her body stiffen. "What are you?"

"Not faceless. Never, ever faceless. Look at my beautiful eyes. I am worth something because I have them…A face." She touched her fake-eyes, cocking her head. "Worth something. I can't be killed wantonly like the others, like my mother, because I have eyes. _I am special." _

"Monster!" she screamed.

"No, I am the Eyecatcher. Eyes…are the most valuable gems of all. I will have every single one. From Roleholders, from foreigners, from animals. I will have all the eyes in the world, and I will be the most important."

With awful carefulness the woman opened a drawer, drew a twisted knife. The light played along its edges, illuminating old blood stains underneath the metallic sheen.

Delilah scrambled away, clawing at the window, banging, trying to break it, but the glass would not give to her frantic beating, and the Eyecatcher was coming ever closer. She ran instead to the door, falling once before throwing herself back up. Shaking the handle, she realized it was locked. Crying, she was suddenly very aware of how delicate her eyes really were.

Delilah's eyes frantically searched for anywhere, anything that could possibly save her. Her gaze locked on the closet, seeing it as her best place to run and hide, as silly as the thought was.

"You can try to hide, but I know where you will go. They always hide there. Foreigners are all very predictable when put in situations like this." Her whispery voice filled the air like an odor. Delilah shook, watching her every slow step closer. "Your kind always runs and hides in the darkness, hoping I won't see them. I always see them. How they squirm when I fasten my hand to their neck and very gently do my work."

_Her work._

The word reverberated through her head, a haunting melody, and an onslaught of fear swept through her. All sane thoughts were chased away by the mere fact she was trapped with no help, nothing.

And here there were no saviors. Nobody would miss her. She could scream, but her screams would fade in the air, useless.

She collapsed against the door, every instinct telling her to run, but to where? There was nowhere to go. She was trapped on all sides, locked away, and her eyes were so very vulnerable, so very soft. She covered her face as if to shield it, but she knew in her heart it was useless.

Moments passed before the Eyecatcher reached her. One hand wrapped around the girl's neck, forcing her head up to look at that terrifying face. Her grip was tight, leaving Delilah barely able to breathe.

Gathering her last breaths, she managed, "Have mercy! Don't! Be good, be nice…just let me go. You'll never see me again."

"Funny. They always beg and appeal my sympathy. Foreigners are coddled by the Roleholders, made soft and unaware of the realities of this world. They're so much easier when they're naïve and ignorant…"

Her words came between gasping sobs. "Please…you have to feel something…feel something please…Oh God…."

"I feel nothing…only ticking. I feel nothing, only ticking. I feel nothing, only ticking in my chest. I am a clock, an object. No blood pumps through our veins. We are only very cold."

"Oh God…"

"And you are very warm."

Delilah felt as if all the air was being squeezed from her lungs, her face feeling very light. Her eyes stared wide at the woman, and the knife was raised.

It wavered over her face, and Delilah saw the sharp tip come closer, closer.

A knocking on the door completely shattered her. Her mind jumped. Before her thoughts had been locked in absolute terror. Now she felt a tinge of curiosity at how someone was knocking at a time like this.

Huffing, the Eyecatcher thew her knife to the side, readjusting her veil and kicking the girl out of the way as she opened the door.

A man, faceless as all the others and with golden hair, stood there. Against the beautiful backdrop of green grass and cloudless blue sky he seemed ill-fitting. All the faceless seemed ill-fitting. How could a world be so normal and so strange?

"I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something?" Peering inside, he wore a genuine smile.

Delilah felt her heart leap. Would he save her? Were there truly saviors here? The hope was almost painful because she knew at any moment it could be shattered. It was tenuous, weak and all she had.

He gazed at Delilah, and she mouthed two words.

"Save me."


	3. She became leverage

_Save me!_

_Save me!_

_Save me!_

The words reverberated in her mind almost as if she was willing him to aid her with only her thoughts. Such an idea was silly, of course…but, God, did she need someone. Anyone. Anything.

Would he be it?

His eyeless face concentrated in her direction. He seemed to be deliberating, but how could she be sure? No, not with these faceless creatures. It was said that eyes were the windows to the soul, and here were people without eyes, who somehow still saw without them. Monstrosities, horrors. Of course, he probably wanted to hurt her too.

Golden hair shining in the light streaming from outside, he stepped in. He was tall but with thin shoulders and a strange quirk to his lips, making him seem as if he was always about to smile.

"Mother, you really should be kinder to foreigners."

"They're just carriers of eyes," the Eyecatcher whispered.

"They're special to some people." Delilah felt his gaze pass over her. "I don't particularly care for them, but the Roleholders are obligated to…just maybe we can make use of her. It's leverage." His soft smile seemed completely at odds with the tone of his voice, which was matter-of-fact and bemused.

"Give a foreigner up? Let her live? Oh no. They are my favorite." The Eyecatcher's smile was wide and sharp, her expression revealing her dark, shadowy heart. Suddenly Delilah noticed that there were points to her yellowed teeth. She looked like a hag from an old fairy tale, with a mask in place of a face. Those eyes the Eyecatcher had carved into her own flesh haunted Delilah with their unblinking gaze. "Let me tell you about the last one. She came to this very house, seeking comfort. She was bright and cheerful, wearing a pink dress and with a black bow in her light hair. She was so lovely…and every Roleholder loved her, coddled her and made her so soft and tender."

She paused only to relish the thought, before continuing, "When I strapped her down to the table and inserted a rusty knife into her eye socket she was in that wonderful place beyond screaming, and blood fell in place of tears. Her limbs had frozen up, her face a mask of delightful horror. Her face I'll always remember. It was pale…bloodless…as her body ended, dead, and began the process of decay. I threw her out back for the animals to consume, for they love the taste of real flesh. Foreigners are messy when they die. Very messy. Not like us…In them there are blood and veins, soft organs and tissues to slowly tear into a bloody mess."

The young, faceless man listened calmly. "Yes, but we can use them to our advantage. Don't you want to do something other than feed your want for eyes, mother?"

"I don't want for eyes," she shot back, pointing at her face. "I have them."

His eyebrows raised slightly, but he said nothing more. Bending down to the shaken Delilah, he held out his hand, seeming like a true gentlemen. "Well, hello there, young lady. I apologize for my mother. She's odd, but I promise you I'm mostly perfectly normal."

The smile that twisted his lips made her want to trust him. It wasn't genuine. It was a false niceness, but then she would take any she could even if it was simply a mirage created by her thirst for kindness.

Trying to ignore the Eyecatcher's hungry smile, she tried to focus completely on the man before her, allowing him to grasp her hand and pull her up. Brushing herself off, she noticed him standing between her and his mother like a shield.

_What a relief._

So he was her savior, then? She couldn't help but feel love swell in her heart. A savior had come in her darkest moment to rescue her. Or was he simply leading her into another trap? Her feelings deflated. One could never tell with this place…

Twining his arm with hers, he led her outside into the light. His golden hair seemed to catch ever ray of the sun, his ironic smile lit.

"Miss foreigner, I'm sorry for the welcome your received. If I had found you first that would have never happened. Do you have a name? All you foreigners have names, although they never seem to matter much."

"Delilah," her voice was small.

"A rather standard name for your kind, I suppose. I don't know why I was expecting something original."

Suddenly Delilah was overcome by a sense of dread. She feared to look over her shoulder, but curiosity pulled her gaze back towards the window of the house.

There the Eyecatcher face was pressed against the glass, the ratty curtain drawn up. That face stared, hungry, and it only seemed hungrier when it saw her eyes.

Jumping, she turned back to the man.

"Can I call you anything?" she said quickly.

He seemed pleased. "I am Somebody. Call me that. Somebody."

"Somebody is an awkward name."

"It's not a name. It's who I am."

"Then what's your name?"

"Somebody." He smiled. "And you, Delilah, will be of great use to us."

"Us? Who is 'us'?"

He seemed delighted to be explaining all this. "Surely you've noticed how awful this world is, haven't you? The way the faceless are mistreated while the Roleholders get special places just because of a damn 'Game' that none of us understand or want. My group and I…we're fighting that. We're going to destroy the game, destroy the Roleholders and roles and this make-shift caste system."

"I can't help you with that."

"But you can! The Roleholders will love you. You can destroy them."

She shifted uncomfortably, remembering the man back at the Clock Tower. He had a face…was he a Roleholder? "You're mistaken."

"I'm not. We've seen it time and time again. Foreigners come only to become love-struck young girls when they can be so much more."

"Love-struck?"

He shrugged. "I don't understand it, myself. Foreigners are and Roleholders…they're two opposites drawn to each other. One loves the order of the Roleholders, and the other loves the chaos of the foreigners. But you're not going to just be a love-struck girl. You're going to seduce and sabotage them. Destroy them."

"I'm not doing anything like that!"

His bottom lip subtly edged against his top. "Oh, but you will. You have no choice. Or shall you just become a pair of eyes in my mothers jar?"

She was quiet, giving silent consent.

"Good, good. We call ourselves The Nobodies, by the way. My group. We're rebels."

"Somebody of The Nobodies? That sounds silly…"

"There's nothing silly about what we do. You've seen it." There was an ironic quirk to his grin. "You know, I used to work as a knight for Heart Castle, but Vivaldi sent me away. I was…number six? Seven? I don't care to remember. It's in the past…"

"Why would she do that?"

"Because she loved me…and how could the great Queen love someone like me? We have Roles we are given, Miss Delilah. That's what we're fighting. Roles, rules. We need anarchy and chaos. This world has been an ordered madhouse for too long, and the faceless are tiring of it. So bring on the beautiful chaos, I say!" He threw his arms up, laughing uproariously. "Screw this. Screw everything! We're going to overturn it all…now we have you." He focused back on her, putting his arms down, laughter dying.

Delilah didn't like the way he looked at her.

"Come, you should meet the others. They'll be quite excited to see our little piece of leverage!" He gripped her arm tightly, dragging her away. Suddenly she felt sick, and an ominous feeling overwhelmed her.


	4. She must scream

"Did you have a name? _Ever_?" Delilah asked, her voice cracking.

"No. I'm a faceless creature. What could _I _do with a name? I had a number, but it was so insignificant even I forgot it. It wasn't until I was thinking one day…watching. Watching the people go by that I realized there's no difference between us, the faceless, and them, the Roleholders, but their beautiful eyes. Mother knows it too."

She stumbled. Earlier Somebody had blindfolded her, rendering her to see darkness, to stumble along behind as he led her with his strong hand. She felt the uneven ground beneath her feet, felt his slippery hand, heard his fervent words. His voice rose and fell, passion highlighting every syllable.

He spoke, "We will be free. Liberated. This world…this world of rules and laws will see and understand because now I have the foreigner. Isn't that it? Foreigners are so special for some reason."

She tuned his rant out, and only caught words here and there. Fear clouded her senses, her shaking legs only kept stable by his hand on hers, leading her to some unknown.

He stopped, his tone suddenly a thoughtful whisper. "And what are laws but unbroken crimes?"

She shuddered, when suddenly he withdrew the blindfold from her eye. Revealed was a forest, trees shooting tall to a sky that constantly shifted between night and day as if it was caught in indecision. The strange wind blew not from the side but up from the ground, shaking the trees with a rustling sound. Glistening in moonlight, shining in sunlight was the foliage itself, every inch of it colors of purple and red. The place was an island unto itself, the trees serving as fortress-like walls, cutting it off from the rest of the world.

In a clearing was a door leading deep into the earth. Somebody yanked her forward, heaved the door open and pushed her down. She found herself falling into darkness. Screaming, clawing at the walls until her fingertips bled, she imagined the way her body would crumple in the end as her body hit the ground, skin bursting on impact.

Death never came. She hit the ground lightly on her feet. It took her only a moment to recognize Somebody before her, a flashlight beaming in her face as he smiled. Around them was a cavern, and she thought of how its earthy walls must have been carved by something large tunneling through. Everything was perfectly smooth and arched.

He moved gracefully down the way. She followed, hearing her footsteps echoing back to her as he spoke the whole way. "This is where The Nobodies live, my dear! You'll love them. They're—"

His flashlight illuminated not just any room, but a place marked by struggle. Tables and chairs were overturned, and it was not unoccupied. Phantom figures stood unmoving around. She could see vaguely through them, their wavering dark forms translucent, the blood-stained wall behind them visible. No eyes, no features, just shadows in the dark, their long, monstrous arms reaching out for clocks on the floor and cuddling them softly to themselves. The gentleness reminded her almost of how one would hold a baby.

There was absolute silence, and she was unsure if the figures even knew she was there. She perceived Somebody quivering, his flashlight trembling in his hands. "Is that you? Is that you?" His words were caught on repeat, tumbling from his mouth, the phrase growing louder each time it was echoed. "Is that you?"

They did not answer, but only stayed put, cradling the clocks. Somebody frowned deeply, lips quivering. He looked as if he could cry, but his lack of eyes didn't allow for tears. Instead sobs choked him, but he could not release the utter sadness he felt. It stayed put in his heart, now a well of deep emotion he could never adequately show.

"My friends…." His voice cracked.

His friends were but clocks. For once he felt small and helpless. He felt like the pathetic faceless he was, doomed to rebirth, interchangeable in an unchanging world. Clenching his fist, he fought fiercely against this emotion, even as the phantoms drifed unthinkingly past him into the darkness. They became the darkness.

"Whoever did this will pay!" he cried in anger.

Delilah had watched this conflict. She was fearful, of course, but also curious. Here was a man who fought so hard against what he was. Here was a man who could not accept, and so he struggled against something he could not change. He would fail, she reflected.

_Please don't let me be there when he does._

The young faceless stormed about, fury written in his deeply frowning mouth. He kicked the leg of an overturned chair.

"This is the rebel movement!" he said. "See it? See it? It's just me and you now, so you have to be strong, foreigner." He laughed bitterly, madly. "But I know who did this. How could I not? The ole' Knight of Hearts. Ace, that card! Killing all my friends!" The laughter continued. "Can you believe it? They're all dead. Sure, they'll be reborn…but they're pretty much dead. Dead to me, anyway." His face paled in the light.

"There's no death here, is there?" Delilah said softly. "Then how do you know anything about the word 'death'?"

"Foreigners taught us. They bring more than just themselves to this place. Foreigners bring ideas. They bring life and death. Through them we know that we're individuals, and we realize this pathetic game. I fell in love…." His voice trailed off. "Love is interesting. Liberating. It requires you to be you, rather than just another faceless. It taught me everything. The special thing about foreigners is that they change the world by just existing."

Delilah was enraptured by him. He had no eyes, but it didn't matter. His words were expressive, thoughtful. He seemed to be caught constantly in the formulation of ideas, mouth moving in rapture. Foolish and blustery, he spoke too much, but he was also entrancing to the young foreigner.

"We can probably stay here," he said quietly. "The Knight isn't likely to come back. He's a messy person. He's effective, but not thorough, you know." He gestured to the ground. "The afterimages are gone. Don't look so scared."

Delilah was frightened, her limbs shaking. She took her place where he indicated, the hard ground greeting her soft body with pain. "I'm supposed to sleep here? With no pillows?"

"Nobody uses pillows here…or _did _use them. What's the point? We're tough." He grinned rakishly. "But, yeah, if you're tired just sleep. I'm going to think." Propping his feet up on a table, body leaning in a chair, his face focused on the wall, mouth drawn in a thin line.

She watched him for a few steady moments before drifting into uneasy sleep.

She dreamed.

For an instance Delilah saw herself in a mirror, her hair falling from her scalp in clumps, curling on the floor. She wanted to reach up to touch her bald head, but found she could not move an inch. Thick cords sprung into existence suddenly, cutting holes in her lips as they bound her mouth shut. Lastly, her eyes melted from her face, vision becoming smaller and smaller as they ran down her front.

No eyes, mouth tied by thick cords, she could not speak, could not see. She cried out into the darkness, and only the darkness answered. She could not see the world around her, and she realized she was nothing. Blood pooled in her mouth, seeking exit but finding none in her closed lips. She drowned slowly, but could not even sputter and choke. Her forcibly still body wanted to writhe. The urge to fight was tingling in her very fingertips and toes, but she was stuck, caught.

She was _not just_ faceless. She was voiceless, useless and nothing.

A man's voice came from nowhere, reaching her numb ears. "This is the life of the faceless. The Roleholders…we are something. The faceless are nothing. Don't confuse the rules of this ancient game, dear foreigner." Echoes of his words remained even when he stopped.

She wanted to cry, but no tears came to the eyeless.


	5. She will find a way

**Nothing in this is meant to be canon. The canon is only a base for me to do whatever it is I'm doing. I find the actual Universe of HnKnA pretty interesting, even if the games only lightly touch upon it most of the time. The mechanics of the Universe mostly lie in the edges of the games' narratives or are lightly hinted at in some of the mangas. This is my attempt to take the vague elements we only occasionally see and make a story of them.**

* * *

><p>Delilah woke. She struggled to get off the hard ground as her aching joints protested. Gazing around, she saw Somebody bent over a book, the flashlight set vertically on the floor creating dim light. He didn't realize she was awake even as she crawled towards him.<p>

"Never in vain…." He murmured. "Never in vain."

She peeped from behind his shoulder. The book was mostly English, but had had another language interposed in some parts. The font was small but neat, and by the ornateness of the illustrations inside she supposed this was an important book. One sentence must have enthralled him. He ran his fingers across it over and over, obsessed like a man under a spell. It read: "The soul is birthless, eternal, imperishable and timeless and is never destroyed when the body is destroyed."

"What's this?" she asked.

He jumped slightly, and then glanced back at her. "You don't know this?"

She shook her head. "Why would I?"

"A foreigner gave it to me, so I assumed you would know something about it. Don't you foreigners come from the same place?"

"I suppose we do."

"Then how do you not now of this?" He dog-eared the page and closed the book, holding it up to her. The title was _Commentaries on the Bhagavad-Gita_.

"What is that supposed to be?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. The foreigner who gave it to me didn't last long, but she had interesting things to say. I understood her language like I understand all foreigner languages. The Game dictates we are to interact with foreigners, so I guess the Game makes it so that we understand whatever language they're fluent in."

She took the book and flipped through it, and realized this must have been some Hindu religious text…maybe. She didn't really know anything about the world beyond England. Her father was a pastor, and her tutor taught her English from the Bible. She had memorized and forgotten more Bible verses than any knowledge she ever learned of countries outside of Western Europe.

"Is it like the Bible?" she asked.

"How am I supposed to know?" He seemed irritated. "I tried to understand the Bible. There was a foreigner, maybe her name was Rose, whom was very attached to the thing, but I never understood it. It never made sense. She had a little Bible in her coat pocket when she got shot in the head."

"This place makes no sense," Delilah replied.

He shook his head, hands fidgeting. Obviously he had too many thoughts running around in his mind, thoughts he couldn't easily put into words. "I understand the separation of the soul and body, right? I get that the body is a fleeting thing while the soul is eternal, but… I don't get salvation. I don't get Heaven and Hell. They make no sense! The world's a cycle. We live, we die, we become clocks, the Clockmaker repairs our clocks, and we come back. We do this for every Game, and when the game ends the Roles are reassigned. We're bound by senseless, meaningless rules that exist just because. Nothing changes. There's no such thing as change here. Our actions are completely meaningless. Morals are completely meaningless. Murderers and good men have the same fate."

"It's not like that where I come from."

"You come from a very odd place, then." He fit the book back into the inside pocket of his ragged coat. "But it's not bad place. I'm glad I know of it… I'm glad that there are places that are different." He stood, tall form towering over Delilah. He muttered, "Never in vain."

* * *

><p>"The first Roleholder we're going to destroy is the Knight," Somebody explained. "He deserves punishment. But we can't just kill anyone. They'll just be replaced. We need to end this Game, but end the Game in a way that ensures all future Games are ended as well. This world loves order. People like me and the Roleholders can only abide by that order."<p>

As they strolled she saw a maze of bushes filling the horizon, broken only by a castle in the distance. The setting sun darkened the castle's white walls but illuminated its silhouette in reddish-gold light.

"You're a foreigner. There are no rules for you to abide. You're a perfect piece of chaos. You can disrupt this world in ways no one else can. And that's what we're going to do. We're going to find a way to disrupt this world."

"I'd rather just go home."

He testily replied, "How about you get involved in something for once in your life and not wilt like a damn flower at the first sign of change? Why don't you foreigners ever see how vital, important and dangerous you are?! How you can bring change to this whole system?! What's wrong with your kind? If you're going to be useless to me, I'm sure my mother can find use for you."

She eyed his profile. The tightness of his lips and the set of his jaw told her everything she needed to know about how he felt. She pitied him, but knew also he was a fool. He talked about grand ideas—ideas about the eternal soul and change—that he didn't truly understand. She knew he was using her. He put ideas before people, but how could he not? Look at the world: a world of senseless rules followed by people whom were mere pawns. He was just like everyone he hated in this place, but he didn't know it. Delusion clouded his mind.

Would Wonderland be her grave? Oh, it would. She had already heard of all the foreigners killed before she got here. She wasn't delusional. She thought very clearly, and perhaps this clearness of thought would be her means to insanity. She knew she was no exception. Wonderland would bury her like the rest.

He stopped at the entrance of the maze. "I'm going with you, obviously." Taking off his pack, he shuffled through junk and drew out a wrinkled black uniform. "But you need to act like you don't know me."

It wouldn't be hard. She barely knew him anyway.

He stripped in front of her, and she looked away in maidenly modesty until he snapped, "What difference does it make whether I'm clothed or not?! We're in the midst of the biggest change in the history of ever, and all you're thinking about is how much skin I'm showing! You're following silly rules of modesty that don't matter." He smiled harshly. "I need you to care for no order and no rules. I need you to be perfect chaos. The things you're going to have to do to destroy the order are going to be heinous and awful, and I need you to not care. Can you do that? Because if you can't…." He laughed. "You got that?" He slipped into the black pants and coat, which had the number six across the chest. He put on a hat, hiding his golden hair. "Look at me!" His smile didn't drop. "I look like everyone else."

"I think you look dapper." She gave him an equally bitter smile. She was quite good at being bitter. She had always been her father's "bitter, quiet" daughter, and she didn't see why she should stop now for Somebody.

He handed her the pack, instructing her to act like it was hers. Apparently he thought it would be suspicious if he kept it.

Swaying under the pack's weight, she followed him through the maze, his quick, efficient steps outpacing her unsure gait. She liked the way he swung his shoulders. She had to smile to herself. Even his walk was confrontational. He was all bravado and big, dangerous schemes. Interesting, even if she didn't want to have anything to do with him.

Huffing from the exertion, she managed, "You really need to stop lecturing me about everything."

He shrugged. "I'm just trying to mold you into what I need." His blunt answer cut her.

"I bet you're the reason all those foreigners are dead."

"Maybe, but I have a new one now."

She stared at her feet. She wondered how many girls he had handed over to his mother when they couldn't live up to his impossible standards.

He glanced back. "Don't be so down. If you do what I say then we won't have any problems."

She rolled her eyes.

Sometime into the maze they encountered two men bickering. Both had faces, which meant they were the Roleholders she had heard so much about. She saw another immediate difference from the faceless: these men were distinct. One was a man with white hair and white rabbit ears, his red-eyed glare fixed on the man a few paces across from him. This man seemed relaxed and calm even under the rabbit man's hateful look. He wore a coat red as blood, his brown hair a mess and his lips quirked into a smile. He noticed the two first, turning towards them, not looking even slightly fazed by the angry rabbit breathing down his neck.

"Hey, Prime Minister, look at what this guy brought!" The man stepped over, heavy boots picking up dust.

Delilah saw Somebody tense, and if he had eyes he would be glaring. The man didn't even notice. He merely put his face close to Delilah's, staring at her features. Then he jerked up, addressing the rabbit man.

"Hey, Peter! We've got another foreigner here! I know you love foreigners!"

Peter scowled. "Kill it!"

Delilah winced.

"That's an order," Peter spat at Somebody.

The man in the red coat shrugged. "Wow, you really changed your mind on these foreigners."

"There is only one foreigner. The rest are imposters." He straightened the sleeves of his checkered coat. "Do it, faceless. Hurry up."

Somebody didn't hesitate. He drew a pistol from the waist of his pants and pointed the tip at Delilah's head. Her eyes shot wide. She had to think fast, as she had no doubt Somebody would kill her to keep his cover. She glanced at the two men, running the information she knew about them through her head. Both men had known several foreigners. The rabbit man must have been attached to one foreigner, but he didn't seem too keen on any others. He wouldn't help her. The man in the red coat seemed unflappable. He didn't seem to care about her either way. He merely watched her impending fate with an easy smile.

He must be the Knight that Somebody hated so much. The Knight who killed Somebody's comrades. Perhaps… perhaps she could make this interesting. Perhaps that was the key. Wasn't she beautiful chaos?

Delilah hid her fear deep in her heart. She faced the pistol's bore. She coolly eyed Somebody over the gun's barrel.

"Go ahead. What difference does it make? I don't have anything to live for. What, you expect me to be scared of you?! You want to kill me for no reason? You want to kill me because somebody tells you to? Then do it, pawn."

Somebody's eyebrow twitched. Oh, she got him. She knew that would make him hesitate.

Peter tapped his watch. "What's taking so long? Shoot her and she'll stop talking."

"Yes, indeed. Shoot me!" she shouted.

The Knight watched with interest, just as she hoped he would. "What's holding you up?" he asked Somebody.

"What's holding you up, pawn?" she repeated. "Weren't you ordered to kill me by your superior? Don't you do what our masters say?"

Somebody nearly curled his mouth into a snarl, but tightened his lips instead.

"Is this faceless being disobedient, Prime Minister?" The man in the red coat laughed. "That's really weird. Usually they jump at the chance to follow our orders. Maybe he has a crush on the girl? Is that why you can't shoot, soldier?"

"I'll shoot." Somebody's voice was cool and emotionless. Finger on the heavy trigger, he started to press when the man in the red coat stopped him.

"It's fine. We believe you." The man glanced down at Delilah. "Do you have a name?"

She tried not to show too much relief at Somebody putting the gun away. "Do you?" she replied.

"Maybe." He smiled, but didn't tell. Silence followed as they waited for someone to say a name.

"I'm sure it's a nice name. Lots of people have nice names… except for the faceless. Is your name six, sir?" She smiled congenially at Somebody. He only stared into the sky, not deigning to look at her face. Throughout this whole situation she had humiliated and cut him down, and he deserved it after the way he had talked about her. He thought she was merely a pawn? Ha! Not even close.

"Don't bother talking to that guy," the man in the red coat said. "He's just a faceless."

"Oh. So he's _nobody_, then?"

"Yep. Exactly. You know, foreigners don't normally get a hang of that concept this quickly. You're a weird girl."

"My name's Delilah." She gave him a sunny smile.

"Ace."

"Another pet foreigner?" Peter said. "Haven't you had enough of them, Ace?"

"I'm just having a normal conversation, Peter. Not that you would know anything about that."

"And you do, idiot?"

"Sure, I do! Look at me! I'm talking to this pretty young girl right now while you keep glaring and creating frown lines on your face. You should smile more. You don't want your face to get stuck like that, do you?"

Peter made a strangled noise. "You!" He pointed at Somebody. "Get in the castle. Report to your Queen. She has a task for you soldiers. And, Ace, you best report the Queen as well. I don't feel like listening to her yammering about you always getting lost and being late. I trust you can find the castle on your own, considering it _is big and right there_, but perhaps that's too much."

"What about Delilah?" Ace asked, gesturing toward her.

"Kill her, knock her out, bury her, poison her… I don't care. Just keep her out of my way."

Somebody stiffly exited the scene with Peter.

"What's his problem?" Delilah asked.

A shadow momentarily crossed his face. "He can't move on."

Delilah was a sharp girl. She immediately caught what he meant. Peter was still caught on one particular foreigner. Other foreigners were only bitter reminders of the one he loved. "Do you know of the Eyecatcher, Ace?"

"The eye-what? Do you seriously buy into those faceless legends?"

"No, of course not."

"So, you have anywhere you need to be?"

"Don't you?"

He laughed lightly. "Eh, no."

"But didn't Peter say you needed to go see the Queen?"

"Why?"

"Peter said—"

"Exactly. He said I should, but who's to say I didn't get lost?" He looked around. "Which I am. Hmmmm." He scratched his cheek. "Well, I didn't really want to see her Majesty anyway. She's having a really bad day, and she'd just scream at me if I showed up."

"Why is she having a bad day?"

"The King is sleeping with a new maid."

"Her husband is cheating on her?"

"Husband? Nope! He's just the King, but the Queen seems to get really upset whenever he's with women." He shrugged, obviously not caring. "I'll take care of this for you. I am a knight, after all." He shouldered her pack, carrying it with more ease than even Somebody had. "This is heavy. What's in it?"

"Rocks," she said coolly.

He laughed. "So, wanna come see my friend with me?"

"Your friend?" She trailed behind him as he moved through the maze.

"Oh, he's a great guy. You'll love him. He won't love you, but you should still give him a hug and watch him turn red."

Little did Delilah know the incredible journey she was about to go on. She was even less aware of just how poor a man's sense of direction could be.

* * *

><p>She was beautiful as ever.<p>

Now, however, her beauty was cold, imperious and distant. The same passion Somebody remembered was present, but the years had turned her angry and dark. He recognized only faint traces of the girl he once knew beneath the womanly paint she wore.

As a girl she wore little make-up. Her hair had been loose about her shoulders, and often she would smile at him. She had been fresh-faced and lovely, like a blooming rose, but obviously this rose had matured. He gripped the heart-shaped spear, understanding that his role at this moment was to pretend to be a card soldier. Still, it had been a long time since he had truly been one. Long ago he had lost the numb dumbness required to be a happy faceless. He had become something more twisted and dark. He stole a glance at Vivaldi. Perhaps he wasn't the only one.

Only now when he was so close and yet so far did he realize how much he missed her. When she had first become a Roleholder, she still retained a little of her faceless past. She still spoke of her parents and her brother. She still could tell the difference between him and the other men.

Now he was the same as every other soldier in the room. He had so many memories in his head of her, so many memories of them together, and he couldn't express a single one. He was no longer an empty slate. He had known love and passion, and he was only forcing a passive expression to hide the hurricane of conflicting feelings inside himself. A small part of him wondered if he was finally going insane. Perhaps he had only made up his past with Vivaldi. Oh, how he hoped not….

"That fool!" Vivaldi's cry echoed throughout the throne room, her voice resonating in the domed ceiling. The Prime Minister waited at her side, listening to her complaints with an uncaring air. "We want her head! Find that woman and behead her!"

Peter sighed. "Don't we have other things to do, your Majesty? We're already short-staffed, and the King will probably just find another woman that you will then behead."

Somebody didn't dare to outright stare, and the glances he managed of her were painfully fleeting. She was gorgeous: a defined jaw, thick lips and almond eyes. There was too much strength and resolve in this woman's face for her to be mistaken as a fragile beauty. No, she wasn't beautiful in the pitiful way young women were beautiful. She was beautiful in the way of mature, powerful women. She was regal perfection. She had… grown into her role so well.

"Did we ask for your worthless opinion, White? If we could we would behead his worthless self, but we have to amuse myself by beheading his harlots instead."

"My Majesty!" Somebody came forward. The room became dead quiet, and Vivaldi looked absolutely scandalized that he would dare address her. She leveled her eyes at him, her glare bespeaking danger.

"Whom gave you permission to address us?" Her tone was soft and hard.

He bowed low. "Forgive my insolence, my Majesty, but I have a request if you would humbly oblige."

"Say it quickly, but do not expect anything."

"I request that I be the one to bring the King's beloved maid to you." He kept his head low to the ground, not daring to move. He barely even breathed. The silence held possibilities of either his death or her acceptance.

"We are confused." She paused. "Why would you make such a request, faceless?"

He forced a smile, the term "faceless" a stab to his clock, especially coming from her. He really meant nothing to her. How dare he think otherwise. Her ever caring about him in the first place had been a fluke. It would never happen again, and he was a goddamned idiot for even hoping it would.

But this King… he angered him. The King was merely a lech who barely concerned himself with anything but skirts. And the Queen loved him… or perhaps she didn't love him. It was hard to tell what emotion she felt, but one thing was clear: whether Vivaldi loved the King or not, he had hurt her.

"Because I want to serve you, my Queen." His soft voice reverberated loudly thanks to the room's acoustics.

_I want to see you smile, my Queen._

Everyone was speechless. Yes, a faceless was meant to serve, but he showed presence of mind and will that was out-of-place in his kind. Such had been the curse of his existence.

"Then do it!" she said. "Bring us the girl so we can behead her. And bring the King, as well, so he can watch us sever her neck. Would you care for the honors of dropping the ax on her neck, faceless?"

"Yes."

"Then stand, and go do your duty."

He unfurled himself from the bow. He looked at her fully, taking in the image of her reclining in the throne, and exited the room, the echoes of his steps following in his wake.

* * *

><p><strong>If you like or don't like, please review! Peace! Riddle out!<strong>


End file.
